Satin
by StarWarrior72
Summary: In which Luke Skywalker decides to go to drastic measures to deal with his father, and things go downhill quickly. I had this ready to post, but I just noticed I have a hundred followers, so I need to do something to commemorate that too. Oneshot.


"Okay," Luke said, casting down his lightsaber, and catching his father off guard, "I give up."

"Give up?" Vader asked, nonplussed. He lowered his lightsaber and tilted his helmet at his son.

"I give up," Luke repeated, "I surrender."

Vader stared at his son. Luke had made no move to retrieve his lightsaber, and he was looking at his father expectantly. And Vader was at a complete loss. He had always assumed that Luke would be unconscious, or conveniently near some troopers when he finally caught the boy, and had no binders.

"You don't need to chain me," Luke said, "I'll come quietly."

Vader stared another moment before taking his son by one elbow, just so as to be certain that he wouldn't try to run, and gathering Luke's saber from the floor. He attached it to his belt and began to drag Luke towards his ship, an action which seemed to amuse his son. He ignored the boy's stifled laughter and took him on board his shuttle.

He forced his son into a chair without much difficulty, and turned to the pilots, who lifted off immediately. Vader was aware that his son was still watching him and as he turned back, he was amazed to see admiration mixing with the sadness and fear in his eyes.

Seeing such pain in his child's eyes, he wanted desperately to help, to numb Luke to it somehow. He nearly reached out to touch the boy's head, but caught himself just in time. He had no right to adore Luke like that. He began to take a step away from the boy, but halfway through decided that he'd rather stay. As tears started to pool in Luke's eyes, Vader sat down next to him instead. Luke's eyes still followed him, and the tears receded. Vader felt a little bit better for it. Still, though, there was fear. Vader hated that fear. It had no place in his son's heart. Again, he wanted to reach out and wipe it from his son's face.

As Vader continued to meet his son's gaze, hating the fear, he watched as it receded. At last, all that was left was grim determination. But that wasn't what Vader had wanted to see either. He wanted to see the innocence he could sense hovering about the boy like some sort of force field, and he hated the determination as well. Unlike the fear, the determination did not leave, and it frightened Vader. If Luke had given himself so readily, and yet that determination had not gone, what could it mean?

He tried to see past that mask and into the boy properly, and he could see innocence when he focussed very hard, all the innocence and child-like light that Luke was so determinedly hiding. He prodded at it gently, wanting to cradle it in his hands, but it shrank away from his darkness, although the light became very focussed around where his presence was. He thought that if Luke only allowed his innocence to show that he, Vader, would be dissipated by the sheer joy of it. He smiled to himself. That would be a wonderful way to be lost, absorbed into such perfection.

All too soon, though, the ship was docking, and Vader was forced to lead his son out of the shuttle. He hurried the young man along to their quarters, glad to be able to shut the door and bar any intruders, and lead Luke to his new home.

Luke quietly allowed his father to push him down onto his bed, and sat looking up at him. Vader revelled in how perfectly at home Luke seemed, sitting there with his hands in his lap and an indescribable expression on his face. However, Luke looked tired, and hungry, and Vader knew with a comforting certainty that it was his duty to sate those needs.

He turned from where his son sat and took a pair of pyjamas out of a drawer, and turned back to give them to his son. However, something had appeared in Luke's hands. Vader looked at it with interest, and then mounting horror. It required none of his mechanical skill to recognize what Luke held in now-shaking hands.

"A thermal detonator," he said softly.

There were tears in Luke's eyes again, "I'm sorry," he answered. Then his expression became defiant, and he turned on the dead man switch, "You've caused too much damage already."

Vader was still staring at the little device. He felt betrayed. He wasn't angry that Luke had brought a bomb, he had almost expected it, but the detonator, the dead man switch… "You'll die too."

"I've done my share of evil deeds," Luke answered.

"You're my son," Vader protested, putting the forgotten pyjamas beside Luke and reaching for the detonator. Luke held it away, and his expression became helpless, frightened, pleading for one moment before he pulled the mask down again.

"All the more reason for me to die now," Luke said, and though his voice didn't shake, Vader knew that Luke wasn't sure of the words.

He stepped back, away from the boy, and crossed his arms, "I forbid it. You may kill me, if you must, but you are forbidden to kill yourself."

Luke didn't deactivate the bomb, "I must," he answered, and now his voice did tremble.

With cold horror, Vader knew that Luke meant every word he said. They would both die. And at Luke's hand. But at least they would die here, together, at home. He yearned again to be able to convince Luke not to, but the boy was as strong-willed as his mother, and Vader knew that there was no chance_. Padmé_. Vader thought. _Padmé. Our baby…_ He shook away the despondent thoughts. What Luke was doing frightened him. It had been the fear in his eyes from the start. And Vader, in what seemed to be his final act of fatherliness, wanted to seem strong for his son, to comfort him, and assure him.

"Allow me a final act," Vader said at long last.

Luke nodded.

"Close your eyes," he commanded gently, and Luke did as he was told. Vader turned away again, and gathered a blue cloak from where it sat atop the dresser Luke would never use. He walked back to the boy, and carefully fastened it around his neck. The cloak had been Padmé's, and Vader had longed to see their son wear it. Simple as it was, there was no obvious sign that it had once belonged to a woman, save perhaps the colour.

He took his hands away, and smiled at the way Luke looked, his eyes closed, the hood of the cloak Vader had sloppily attached just slipping down the back of his head, leaving his hair sticking in odd directions. The serenity brought with it the childishness Vader had longed for. Vader smoothed his son's hair, barely able to feel the touch through his gloves and cheap prosthetic limbs. When Luke's hair lay flat once more, however, Vader didn't draw back. His hand found Luke's ear, and he ran a finger along the outside of it. Luke had ceased shaking, and Vader's fingertips found their way along his cheek bone, and down the length of his nose.

Although the feeling was muted, Vader trusted his touch far more than he trusted the red-tinted sight his mask allowed him, or the synthesized sounds, or the metal that was all he could smell.

As his index finger traced Luke's full lips, Vader heard a strange, harsh sound, and was upset by it, until he realized what it was. He was laughing. In terror, and sadness, he was laughing hysterically, and he allowed his hands to run down his son's neck and along his shoulders. As he reached the boy's hands, he grasped them tightly, careful of the detonator. Another sound began, and it grated too, intruding on their reunion, until Vader realized it's source, and looked into Luke's laughing face. The boy freed his empty hand, and covered his mouth, laughing in hysteria, just like his father.

Vader grabbed the hand, and pulled it away, "No," he said, and was surprised by the strength of his voice, "Don't cover your beautiful face."

Luke allowed his father to lower his hand back to the bed, still laughing. And as Vader realized what he'd said, he began laughing again as well. His gaze travelled to Luke's other hand, the one still gripping the detonator, and thought that if Luke was going to use it, now would be the perfect moment. They would die together, holding one another, and laughing, and the detonator would make it so fast, that there would be no pain. Just joy, and then nothing. But as Vader watched, Luke's finger trembled on the dead man switch, and turned it off.

Vader looked up into the boy's face, realizing as he did so that he had sunk to his knees. Luke's face was streaked with tears of joy, and fear. Vader reached up and wiped them away, and Luke took the raised hand in both of his own, and pressed it against his cheek. Vader's other hand was in Luke's hair again, slowly twirling a lock of blonde hair.

Luke slipped off of the bed and into his father's lap, and Vader smiled, and rubbed the boy's shoulders, massaging the tension of fear out of them. They had stopped laughing, he realized, but he didn't mind. They didn't need the sound to tell them how glad they were to have been reunited.

They sat on the floor, Vader holding Luke very tightly for several minutes. At last, when Luke seemed calm, and Vader was starting to relax, Luke pulled himself upright and took the detonator again. Vader's heart seized, but the boy merely tossed it into his lap, "Destroy that, would you?"

Vader stood up, looking down at his son again and smiling, "With pleasure."

Then, as though their reunion had not been interrupted by his own threats, Luke gathered the pyjamas his father had tried to hand to him. He then turned, and entered the 'fresher. Vader put the detonator into his belt and sat on Luke's bed, taking a few last deep breaths. Moments later, Luke reappeared, his old clothing hanging over his arm, dressed in his pyjamas, his mother's cloak no longer attached at his neck, simply hanging from his head.

Without thinking, Vader directed him to the laundry chute. Then he stood, taking in Luke's whole, undetonated form again, before leading him to the kitchen. The young Jedi helped himself to a couple of pieces of fruit and sat down at the table. Vader sat down before his son, and Luke looked up at him.

"Thank you," Luke said finally, "For stopping me."

Vader shook his head, "It's my duty to protect you."

Luke smiled before taking another bite of his fruit. Vader watched his son's face for a few more moments before Luke asked, "This cloak. Why did you want me to have it so badly?"

"It was your mother's, and I thought that it was something you would want."

Luke put down his half-eaten second fruit and fingered the hem carefully, "Thank you. It was on your side, you know."

"My side?" Vader asked, confused.

"I could sense that it's owner wouldn't have wanted me to either," tears appeared in Luke's eyes, "I sensed Mom," he said, as if in dawning realization, "I felt her. I knew her presence. I-I can still feel her."

As Vader watched, Luke melted down, clasping fistfuls of cloak and crying. Vader stood, and walked around the table before kneeling before his son again and hugging him. Luke wasn't hiding his emotions as he had always hidden them from his father, and Vader could feel Luke's pain, as though he had only just realized that his mother was dead, and that he would never sense her living presence, except through her old belongings. And as he cradled his sobbing son, he knew that he understood the boy's pain in a way he had never understood his son before.

He understood that there were no words in the galaxy comforting enough to make his son feel the least bit better, and that any attempt would feel to both of them as if they were undermining Padmé's importance in their lives. He knew, in a way Obi-Wan would never have understood, that the only thing he could do was _accept_ that Luke was unhappy, and not try to fix it, because he _wasn't_ strong enough, and just hold his sweet little son, because only the companionship would help in any way.

Finally, Luke ran out of tears, and wiped away the ones that had stayed on his face. He smiled bravely at his father, "I'm glad I can sense her."

Anakin nodded, "I know you are."

Luke stood up, and Anakin followed. The boy gathered the core of his first fruit, and the remains of the second, apparently no longer appetizing, and carried them to the compost, and dumped them. Then he washed his hands, which were sticky with fruit juice and tears, and led Anakin back to his room. There he crawled into bed, and allowed his father to tuck him in, which Anakin did. Anakin watched as Luke pulled the cloak off of his head, and hugged it like a very small child's blankie. He petted the boy's hair one last time.

"Goodnight," he half-said, half-promised. He had made certain that Luke was comfortable, and he would let nothing disturb the boy.

Luke smiled tiredly, "Goodnight, Father."

Anakin left his son's room, turning back to smile at Luke's tired form as he turned off the light. Then he walked down to his chamber, and was just preparing to close the oxygen pod when Luke entered, trailing blankets and a pillow.

"Can I sleep with you?" Luke asked, climbing into the pod without waiting for an answer.

"You would be more comfortable in your bed."

"I'd like to stay here anyway," Luke said, "I can still sense our fear in my room. I'm sure it'll go away in a day or two," he hastened to add, "But just for tonight, I'd rather sleep here."

Anakin shrugged, "Suit yourself," he said, standing up and walking towards the door.

"Hey!" Luke said, "I meant for you to stay with me!"

Anakin turned back, "I know you did. I've put some camping supplies in your closet, and I was going to get you a mattress."

"Oh," Luke said, relieved, "I'm coming too," he added, dropping his blankets and pillow and following his father.

Anakin gathered a small rolled mattress from an upper shelf in Luke's closet, and helped Luke to roll it out and inflate it. Then he returned to his chair, and gazed down at his son, "The extra oxygen won't interfere with your sleeping?"

Luke shook his head, and Anakin used the Force to turn out the lights, and to activate the mechanisms of the chamber. As oxygen started to pour in, and the claws removed his helmet, he listened closely for any sign that it might be upsetting Luke, but none came. He sat in the dark, too intoxicated by his son's nearness to sleep for several minutes. Then there was a sound of shuffling, of something being dragged across the floor, and something about the same size as Luke's head was carefully rested on his feet.

"I'm not asleep, Luke," he said, fighting to hold back laughter.

"Oh," Luke's voice said, emanating from a point at Anakin's feet, just as he had thought, "You don't mind?"

"No."

"Good."

Another shuffle, and then silence. Anakin listened to his son's breathing until it evened, and then still longer, until he finally fell asleep.


End file.
